


Isolation

by StarryNighty



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Black Reader, Black female reader - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNighty/pseuds/StarryNighty
Summary: Your mutual friend of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, has decided to take you in during these trying times.Warnings: 18+, non-consensual, non-con touching, triggering behavior, please use caution if you decide to read.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	Isolation

“Listen,” you said walking over the threshold of his apartment. “Thanks for putting me up for the next few weeks.”

Bucky walked past you and picked up the small duffel bag on his doorstep.

“I understand,” he mumbled. “Your landlord picked a hell of a time to fumigate your building on top of all this shit.”

“She’s an idiot.” You retorted and moved further into the apartment.

You glanced around. It was small, though bigger for an average place in Brooklyn. It was darkened, save for a light above the stove, silver appliances and red brick walls complemented his sleek no fuss style. You walked behind Bucky through the tiny kitchen and passed the small dining table.

It smelt like him inside the apartment, felt like him too. Dark and woody, strong though you suspected something more elusive surrounded you. You regarded the empty cups, and dirty bowls on the counter in the kitchen. It reminded you of lost sleep and seclusion. And that vacant space between wake and dreams where thoughts could roam freely when you were all alone.

It looked like Bucky did that a lot.

“I’m glad I had a friend that would let me wait this out.” You said as he guided you the short distance to the living room.

“It’s not a problem,” he said over his shoulder. “Steve would have too, but I hear he has a full house already.”

It was semi dark in here too, tall widows with half-pulled grey curtains barely allowed the bright sunny day to enter. 

“The couch is comfortable,” said Bucky.

The living room appeared to double as a gym, a bench press and a treadmill stood near a gun-metal blue leather couch. Small, but efficient. Your eyes moved from the couch to the television mounted on a wall near a door.

“That’s my bed room,” said Bucky half way between the kitchen and the living room. He pointed down a short all. “Bathroom is down here on the right,” he added.

Bucky sat down your bag and walked to the nearest window and drew the curtains back.

He squinted hard, and smiled at you. “Sorry, I’ve been lying in bed most of the day.”

“S’okay,” And you flopped on the couch.

Bucky stared down at you, sharp blue eyes surveyed as you put your feet on his wooden coffee table. Your considerable amount of items began to be pulled out of your bag as you searched to the bottom of it. No care was taken as a few tampons tumbled to the floor along with a couple of cylinders of chapstick. He let it go. You were out of places to stay, you needed a bed that he was fully willing to provide, for the next few weeks. But as you finally got to the bottom of your bag and retrieved the crumpled up headphones. He began to consider that maybe you wouldn’t be as appreciative.

* * *

_**Day 3** _

You were on the couch asleep. Not even completely sunrise your eyes cracked open. Shuffling and grumbling met your not so awake ears. It sounded like cursing.

Your head lifted off the pillow and then you sluggishly sat up on the leather couch. Beyond the small table and into the kitchen, blurry eyed, you could see Bucky walking back and forth.

You blinked again and wiped your eyes of sleep. Was he carrying dishes?

Despite living in close quarters, the two of you managed to allow for privacy. However, it was quickly becoming apparent your aloof demeanor set him on edge.

Eager not to anger your host further you pulled back the blanket, slipped on some shorts and walked to the kitchen.

Bucky stood hunched over the dishwasher, lid hanging open, his metal hand perched on the counter with his weight upon it and he stared into the machine.

You glanced from it up to his face. His profile was scrunched up, lips drawn thin into a grimace.

“What are you doing?” you asked sleepily.

Bucky didn’t bother to look at you.

“God damnit, how many times do I have to tell you?!” he shouted, a bit of spit flew from his bottom lip as he impatiently began to sift through the dish rack.

He pulled up a teal bowl, tilted it back and forth inspecting the cleanliness of it. “Stop putting bowls sideways in the dishwasher!!”

He finally looked up at you. His blue eyes were near deranged though coming from him, and knowing him it was almost a comical reaction to dirty dishes.

“How’re they supposed to get fucking CLEAN?!” he yelled again, though his voice clawed up harsher more pissed off and he shook the bowl. He stuffed it back in the rack and stood up straight.

A smile began to creep up the side of your lip. Quickly you hid it under your hand and tucked your lips in hard to avoid it being seen.

Bucky kicked the door of the washer closing it with a slam and glared back at you.

“What are you a masochist?! Do you like hearing me yell? Fuuuck!”

* * *

_**Day 5** _

You weren’t sloppy. In fact you took great care to clean up after yourself.

You didn’t know what Bucky was talking about. Though you did consider that maybe he wasn’t used to having company for such a long extended period of time. So after the third day you made yourself scarce.

He walked into the living room, you walked to the kitchen. If he was at his bookshelf in the kitchen, you made it a point to go to the bathroom. There you would lock yourself in, listen to a bit of music and write in your journal.

After a day it seemed to be better.

But today felt different.

The evening before Bucky woke up in the middle of the night. Sometime between 2 am and 4 am you woke up to him sitting at the end of the couch. His heavy weight, and the feeling of being watched alerted you further.

You didn’t move. The position you were in on your back allowed you to squint through the dim light and watch him back.

He sat there, a slouched silhouette that just stared at a blank television. Sometimes he would turn and you would shut your eyes. You don’t know when he left. You fell back to sleep and you considered that perhaps it had been all a dream when you woke up.

Today seemed to be a hangover of the early morning.

At any other time you might have understood his peculiar attitudes or his restless moods better. After all the man was a war hero, a vindicated warrior. 

But his scars ran deeper than you had previously considered.

Your eyes peered up over the book you were reading on the couch. Bucky was in the kitchen. Slamming and grumbling to himself as he set about making lunch.

“I don’t want anything,” you called.

Bucky did not respond. 

Even with the sparse lighting from the kitchen you could see his head shake in retaliation of your words. Somehow he never wanted to turn on the above light or allowed you to completely open the windows. He relied upon the small light above the stove as he dropped in a handful of chopped carrots.

You shut the book and walked over to the kitchen.

He ignored your presence but also seemed to bristle at the same time. Bucky rolled his shoulders near the sink and didn’t look at you.

“I can make my own food.” you spoke up. “Obviously I’m getting on your nerves. Just don’t worry about me.”

Bucky stopped moving. Your eyes moved to his metal arm where he held a small paring knife. Onions, celery, and pieces of mushrooms litter the counter and he didn’t seem to mind ignoring the sizzle from the stock pot.

“Did you hear me?” you asked and moved further into the kitchen.

“I’m serious. Whatever is going on-”

Bucky slammed the knife down, scared the fuck out of you and whipped around. His anger came out of nowhere and you took a step back.

“You wanna leave?” he questioned harshly and you couldn’t shake the feeling that _he_ felt disrespected. 

Rage seeped from his voice. Bucky moved closer to you blanketing you in the feeling that harm was nearer than you thought. The look on his face, the flexed jaw, the open and always calculating stare zeroed in on you. He was losing control. The space was small, and his movements quicker, that he rounded on you forcing you to bump into the table.

“Do you?” he asked again. 

Bucky brought his metal hand to your arm. 

“I appreciate you giving me a place to stay…” your voice shook with the beating of your heart. “But I think it’s time for me to go.”

The acrid smell of carrots close to burning wafted over to you and your eyes shifted to the stove. Bucky ignored it, breathed in deeper as his eyes floated from your face to your neck, your breasts. His head tipped down and roved over the rest of your body.

You slid toward the kitchen, the naked backs of your legs glided across the lip of the table but he squeezed your arm stilling you.

“Look at me,”

But you didn’t.

Bucky stepped up, his chest rubbed against yours and you shut your eyes.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said at first. Bucky’s hand caressed your face and turned your head back toward his voice. “It’s dangerous out there.”

At that the wail of sirens echoed from the street below backing up his words.

Bucky’s hand fell to your shoulder, the other followed and pushed your ass down onto the small table. It groaned under your weight, moaned more when Bucky bent over you. It happened so fast. You were still in the mindset of standing, now you were fighting him smelling burning food and struggling to get away.

“You think I don’t see it?” he hissed and tore at your shorts, he ripped through your underwear. “You fucking pity me?” he sneered. 

“I never-” you tried to reason with him back but he clamped his metal hand over your mouth.

“I told Steve I would take you in,” Bucky scrambled with your wrists as he spoke. “I didn’t mind as long as you kept your-”

His hand slid from your mouth to the space between the two of you. “-mouth shut,” he groaned as he pushed into you.

You tried to bolt, you twisted under him but it only made him press harder onto your body.

“‘Can’t respect,” he grunted and slammed into you. “-my things.”

Your legs flayed into the air, your cries of agony were lost to him. 

“‘Uppity _bitch_ ,” he spit down at you.

The legs of the table squeaked, they skipped across the slick floor with every hit from him. Bucky grabbed your elbows and held you at the side, leverage. A smile curled at the corner of his lips and thrusted harder into you.

“I’ll make you dirty.” he panted, his sweat dripped down off his nose and landed on your cheek.

Bucky’s voice, once you thought it was light maybe even airy growled across your lips. He stuck his tongue across your open mouth. “You’ll never be clean again,” he swore and licked your cheek.

Your teary eyes whirled away from his grin. “You’re never going to get away!” he yelled in your face, his hips snapped cruelly and wasn’t satisfied until he hit bottom. But it was your simpering that did it for him, made him feel justified that this all along was what you needed to mind and the thought made him harder. 

Your whimpers opened the floodgates in his mind, any morals left were washed away by the feeling in his balls. 

“I’m going to be in you for weeks…” he callously promised.

His merciless pumping ended with him forcing all of himself inside you. Close as he could get Bucky wrapped his arms around your body and came inside of you. 

The aftermath didn’t last long, Bucky sat up, still inside of you. 

He turned his head toward the kitchen and finally realized the mess he had created. He pulled out of you and started for the kitchen. Your body was weak, but you tried anyway to get up. Your legs were like jelly but you still attempted to run past him in the kitchen toward the door.

But he caught you by the waist, he caught you by the hair too and dragged you back screaming and kicking through the living room. You grabbed for the television hoping it would delay him further.

It didn’t.

Sirens sounded closer now. Vaguely you wondered if they were coming for you. Were you dead and didn’t know it? Was this all a dream? Were you still on the couch sleeping off a binge?

Your nails scrapped the door frame to his bedroom. 

Bucky tossed you on the bed and watched you scatter across the crisp blanket. You looked around hoping that there was something in here to fight him off.

He chuckled while he stood in front of the door and began to stroke himself.

“We’re all alone now doll.”


End file.
